


Rescue Grip

by TheStrangeSeaWolf



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Acceptance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hug someone who is not a hugger, Hugs, Orphan Planets, POV Twelfth Doctor, Self-Esteem Issues, Understanding, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:35:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22403500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrangeSeaWolf/pseuds/TheStrangeSeaWolf
Summary: The Doctor is so done with it all. After having again lost a planet and friends, he just wants to lie down and die. Clara knows what to do about it.Set somewhere in season 8. Probably some time after the Orient Express, but don't take my word for it.
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor & Clara Oswin Oswald, Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 8
Kudos: 77





	Rescue Grip

**Author's Note:**

> So, a friend of mine showed me a wonderful fanart of Clara hugging the Doctor. [You can find it here ](https://mmmmmppppfffff.tumblr.com/post/133813415462)and it's sad I don't know the artist, because it touched me deeply. And it inspired me to write a story around it. Here it is.

He couldn’t go on anymore. He was sick and tired of it all. Sick and tired of running. Sick and tired of saving planets and people. Sick and tired of living. He just wanted to lie down and die.

The Doctor cowered in the corner of Clara’s sofa and took a deep breath. He loved the smell of Clara’s flat and this spot on her sofa in particular. It smelled like her. He hoped she would never find out that whenever he felt bad, he went here. When things had gone terribly wrong, her smell soothed his nerves. He always chose a time when he knew she was teaching little pudding brains. Then, he would land the TARDIS in her flat and just sit there until everything made sense again, until he didn’t feel like a beaten up, wounded, old mess anymore. Until he could wear the mask of the superior Time Lord again.

He doubted that it would help anymore.

Not after today.

Orphan 89 it was now.

Providence 5 it was called before.

He had negotiated the peace treaty. It looked so good. The old kings had stepped down in favor of the younger generation. They had abolished the kingdoms and had agreed on one elected government for the whole planet. He had stayed for some time and had helped to build a smart and effective administration. He had helped the newly elected government and the young president with the first steps. He had made many friends.

Today, he had intended to look how things were and to visit the president and her family. What he found was a completely destroyed planet with no signs of life anymore. Given the readings from the TARDIS, a mix of chemical and nuclear weapons had destroyed all forms of life there. It had only taken 8 years for the people on this planet to make it from what seemed to be a flourishing democracy with a prescient government to complete destruction of all life forms.

Every single man, woman, child, animal, plant was dead now.

Orphan 89.

And it was not the first time this had happened to him.

It happened again and again and again.

No matter how many monsters he fought, how many peace treaties he negotiated and how many friends he made, in the end he always lost everything.

He didn’t want to go on anymore.

He wanted to die for good.

Not regenerating, not changing into another person, getting to know a new body and personality, again trying to be a Doctor and failing in the end, losing everybody he cared for.

He was so done with it all.

So tired of living.

“Doctor?”

The voice cut through his hearts like a burning knife. He hadn’t heard her coming in. He felt ashamed. She shouldn’t know he came to her flat when she was away. She would certainly be mad at him.

He jumped up.

“Sorry, Clara, I…”

He clasped his hands together, desperately trying to sound cheerful and happy, finding a reason why he visited without her permission.

“Doctor, you look terrible. What happened?”

Obviously, he had failed to conceal how tired of life he was.

“Oh, never mind, I think I’ll just go. See you Wednesday! Bye!”

He started towards his TARDIS.

“Doctor!”

He let his head sink to his chest, waiting for her to tell him that it was not okay to break into her flat and leaving without giving her an explanation. To his surprise, she just grabbed his sleeve and gently pulled him back. She didn’t look cross. He was not good at reading her face, but it seemed to look concerned and she was not using her teacher voice.

“Why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?”

He just shook his head. He didn’t want to tell her. She didn’t need to know how terrible he felt and how sick and tired he was of being the Doctor.

She guided him gently towards the sofa and made him sit down again. She sat right beside him.

“What happened, Doctor?”

Her voice was soft, the voice she used when she talked to a scared child. Her brown eyes looked into his and it felt as if she tried to search his soul. He looked away quickly.

He didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t want her to know that he had failed in saving a planet once again. And she would lose all respect if she saw how weak he really was. How far off he was from being the hero she saw in him. He liked how she was looking up to him, at the same time it made him sad, because he knew it had nothing to do with who he really was. He was just a flawed, old alien. A sick and tired and damaged and stupid old alien.

He shook his head.

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

He nodded.

He didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted to run away in his TARDIS. At the same time, he wanted to be here, because it was nice to be with Clara. She radiated warmth and comfort. And her smell was soothing. Nothing he could tell her, though.

He looked at her. There was a hint of a smile in the corner of her lips.

“You know, there is something we do on Earth if someone is distraught like you,” she said.

He was confused. What was that supposed to mean?

“I know that you are not a hugger,” she continued, “so I want you to know that what I do now is not a hug. It’s a tested and approved rescue grip if someone has sprained his soul.”

She reached around his shoulders and gently pulled him towards her right shoulder. Then she wrapped her right arm around his head.

His hearts hammered in panic, but after a moment of shock, he realized that nothing bad had happened. She felt warm and soft and with his nose buried in her elbow he could inhale her soothing smell. He needed to shield his brain to keep his thoughts from leaking, but it was manageable.

She just held him tight until he had accommodated to the new position. Then, she let her head rest against his head. She had now more or less wrapped herself completely around the upper part of his body. It felt like a protective shield against the outside world.

He could feel her warm breath in his neck. Then she started to speak to him, not much more than a whisper, soft and gentle:

“It’s alright, Doctor. You don’t need to pretend you are okay when you are not. You are strong and you fight, and you save the day often enough. To me, you are the strongest and bravest being I know. And because you are strong, it is okay if you need a shoulder to lean on after a terrible day. I feel honored that you come to my place if you don’t feel okay. I’m here. Everything is going to be alright. I’m going to hold you until you feel strong enough to go on. That’s not a weakness. It’s very brave to admit you are struggling and it is wise to come to the place where you know you are understood. I understand you. And I am your friend. You can always come to me and I will always take care of you.”

He couldn’t believe how good it felt to hear those words. They felt warm. Until now, it had never occurred to him that words could make one feel warm, but those did. They warmed his hearts and suddenly, he felt a bit better.

Clara had given him much more than she could imagine.

She had given him the permission to feel exhausted and weak. And this permission made him feel a little less sick and tired already. He could even imagine that he could go on and try again to be the Doctor if she held him like this for a little while longer.

“This rescue grip works well.”

He mumbled.

“Sometimes we pudding brains know a thing or two about taking care, right?”

He nodded, felt her smiling in his neck and relaxed a bit more in her protective arms.


End file.
